


A Collection of Dumb Harry Potter Jokes

by loosenoodlepoodledoodle



Series: Non-K-Pop Parodies [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Absurd, Multi, Other, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21593569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosenoodlepoodledoodle/pseuds/loosenoodlepoodledoodle
Summary: When you read the Harry Potter series, did you think it was a story about a teenage boy growing up in an oddly chaste way? Well, here are all the dirty jokes you've been missing!
Series: Non-K-Pop Parodies [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672396
Kudos: 8





	1. Harry Potter: Scarred for Life

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote these ten years ago or more, but never published them. Maybe I would have if I'd known about the Archive. Although, I have redacted or changed some of them, since I am older and a little ashamed of just how dirty some of the jokes were. You may find it easy enough to fill in the blanks. Some of the later stories I didn't redact, because the characters seemed roughly old enough to make the jokes themselves. In case you were never a horny evil teenager, here is a story from when I was a student teacher:
> 
> It was a U.S. Government class in some overrated public high school, and I was trying to elicit the answer "double jeopardy". Well, some pure evil chick blurted out "double penetration" and the whole class went nuts. She kept asking what it was and I kept trying to shut it down, and everyone else was dying of laughter. So I submit this as proof that teenagers are heinously evil, never to be trusted, and know way too much about the wrong things. Just like me at that age.

Once upon a time, Harry had to serve detention in the Forbidden Forest with Hermione, Malfoy, and Neville. Hagrid, who had just finished a whole keg of West Indian Moonshine, explained their mission.

“Eh, summat’s been killin’ dem unicorns in der,” he began, “so we’s a gonna have a looksie, seen? True bredren, dat.”

The three of them pretended to understand, and fell in line behind the big oaf. Soon they came to a fork, where a centaur was waiting for them.

“Eh, Ronan, me bredren, you seen dat real bad man in ‘ere? I gonna put a bomba blood clot in him, seen?”

Ronan stood still for a moment, eyes comically dilated. Then he chortled, grasping at flies that weren’t really there.

Hagrid said, “Man, he’s real chill, eh? You two, go dat away wit Fang. Me, I and I is goin’ dat away wit dese two, seen?” And off they went.

Malfoy said to Harry, “I heard there are werewolves in here. You can have point.”

Harry frowned and argued, “But I have less wizarding experience than you! _You_ take point!”

Malfoy grimaced, unable to argue with that logic, and then said, “Fine, let’s have Fang go in front. _He’s_ expendable.” But Fang just sat there licking his own butt. He did not inspire confidence.

Just then, Harry noticed something in the bushes. “Hey, what’s that silvery white stuff?” They went in for a closer look.

Malfoy snickered, for no apparent reason. “I think it’s unicorn blood. At least, it’s not supposed to be red.”

Harry agreed. “We must be close by. It’s a shame that the others left. Hey, where’s Ronan?”

The boys looked around. Vaguely, in the gloom, they could sort of make out a silhouette. As Ronan was lost in visions of Popocatepetl Chili, he plowed face first into a tree.

Suddenly, they heard an evil slithering from up above. Stunned, they raised their eyes to the forest canopy; Fang peed on a rock.

Suspended overhead by ropes was the unicorn in question, very much alive. Hanging from it upside down was a figure in black robes. Its face was hooded and covered, and it leaned in towards the unicorn’s…

Malfoy asked, “Since when do unicorns have elephant trunks?” while Harry screamed in horror, _“It isn’t blood!!!”_

Harry was scarred for life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this around the time GTA 4 came out. I based Hagrid's dialect on Little Jacob from that game. I have no idea why, I guess Hagrid's ordinary manner of speaking wasn't interesting enough for me.


	2. Harry Potter and the Lisp of the Basilisk

There was a tenseness to the air in Number Four, Privet Drive; Dudley Dursley had just finished on the toilet. His parents, Vernon and Petunia, anxiously held their breath, unsure whether the plumbing would hold this time. It also stank.

Fortunately, the pipes remained as firm as Duddy’s stool, and the family resumed their dinner preparations. All the family except Harry Potter, that is.

Harry was stuck in his room, trying to figure out why all the letters he would send to his friends came back opened and ruffled. Somebody was reading his mail!

But Harry had a plan. For his next letter he wrote, “You remember where the secret stash is? The you-know-what hidden you-know-where? (In my room?)” That should do the trick!

But it didn’t. So then he tried, “Free drinks and porn in Harry Potter’s room…right now!” and what do you know, someone turned up!

In rags. The disgusting, diminutive figure smelled like piss and dirty diapers. He wore a filthy pillowcase that appeared to have been used to scrub bedpans. It was Dobby the Droggy!

Dobby was smoking a blunt. He didn’t have any earlobes, because he had used them as ashtrays over the years. A broken needle stuck out of his arm, purple-blue blood a-scabbing. His furtive eyes flitted about feverishly. Fabulous!

Harry reflexively kicked the abomination in the eye. It screamed. Uncle Vernon charged up the stairs in a rage. When he opened the door, he was scandalized by the scene: a wailing wretch soiling the bedroom floor.

Uncle Vernon knew what he had to do. He grabbed his Magnum revolver and blew the critter’s brains out. Then he made Harry clean up the mess with a toothbrush. And burn the body in the backyard grill. Finally, Uncle Vernon knocked Harry out with a shovel and stuffed him in the trunk of his car.

***

Harry awoke half-drowning in his own vomit. He heard heavy panting from somewhere nearby. He tried to stand but hit his head on the trunk-lid and threw up again. Then the lid was yanked open and Harry was dragged roughly out. He heard his uncle speak thusly:

“Good, you’re awake now boy, so you can dig your own grave, MWA HA HA HAA!” he crowed with malevolent glee. Yippee!

PLOT JUMP

It was the morning of August 31st, and the Weasleys and Harry Potter had gone to the train station when Harry and Ron couldn’t get through the barrier. They returned to the car to plot their next move. It was then that Ron hit upon an idea: “Hey, let’s use my dad’s car!”

For a moment, Harry believed. Then Hedwig pooped. “Actually, we should send your mum and dad a note. Then we won’t get in trouble,” began our hero in triumph. Then Ron had his repartée.

“You fucking twat, you’re always worried about trouble, Fred and George never worry, you should just marry Hermione, quit channeling Percy like a pissant--”

Harry sucker-punched him. “Who’s the leader of this outfit, I AM I AM!”

Ron, too winded to spellcast, tried impaling Harry with his wand. It snapped and splintered, but at least Harry caught fire.

With a dash of pizzazz, and a flourish of flavor, Harry doused the flames. Then, raising his wand randomly he screamed, “I CONDEMN THEE TO HELL--”

Suddenly a backfire sounded as a flaming purple bus exploded into being. Harry was nearly decapitated by its mirror, which cooed, _“Buckle up, bitch.”_

The door of the bus squeaked open, and a man with runny brown liver spots all over his face stepped out. “Drew Dingleberry’s the name, discount travel is my game! Welcome to the Nite Bus, the one-stop shop for budget travelers. All aboard!”

Ron’s voice cracked: puberty had begun! “Don’t you mean ‘Knight’ Bus?”

Drew kicked him down. “No, they’re a cheap copy of us, they don’t even bolt their furniture down, you want us instead, believe me.” And he winked!

The boy wizards shrugged, their predicament forgotten. “How much to get us to Hogwarts?” they asked.

“Ten Galleons apiece,” he returned, “but we gotta drop you off outside of town, magical motor transport is illegal too close to magical buildings. You can walk the rest of the way just fine. NO REFUNDS.”

Without much grace, Harry shoved his fare into Drew’s hands. But Ron came up empty.

“B-but I haven’t g-got ten Galleons,” he whimpered. Drew rolled his eyes and offered steerage class for one Knut, plus soul. Ron swallowed hard as Drew took his payment and strapped him to the roof. Drew then boarded the bus with Harry in tow.

“Hey, I’ve gotta finish working on this here toilet, could you keep the driver going? Just rub some more Grey Matter© into his head every five minutes.”

Harry looked askance. The driver was a bald little ghoul.

“Why is _he_ allowed to drive?”

But Drew had already gone back to work on the privy; sickening squelches echoed throughout. Hence the liver spots.

“Oh God, I can even smell it out here, what’s happening down there?” Ron excoriated. But the bus had started moving.

Harry grabbed a jar marked ‘Grey Matter©’ only to find it empty save for a few drops and some dead roaches. He poured it onto the driver’s head.

The ghoul shifted gears abruptly, and the bus Disapparated with a bang. It rematerialized in a bog at the base of a small mountain; Harry recognized the peak as one near Hogwarts. Then the bus began to melt.

“Oh God, we’re uninsured!” screamed Drew, who had died. His ghost walked out of the loo, brandishing an ethereal plunger. “Why couldn’t you do what I told you!”

Harry turned to the ghoul, who had been impaled. Then he ran off the bus. Ron shimmied out of his restraints, no worse for wear, and began unloading their luggage.

***

Harry and Ron were lugging their crap through the wilderness near Hogsmeade. There was no road, only a rough game trail. Every few minutes they were spooked by the sounds emanating from nearby thickets. Just then, Ron murdered Harry. Psych!

PLOT JUMP

Harry and Ron had set out to confront the monster of the Chamber of Secrets with Gilderoy Lockhart in tow, when Ron’s wand exploded. Separated, Harry entered the Chamber of Secrets alone. When Slytherin’s Heir appeared, he found him banal and unexciting. Then Fawkes the phoenix appeared and poked out one of the basilisk’s eyes. Tom Riddle screamed, “It‘s a one-eyed snake!” and they all died laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found plot jumps a useful means of skipping around, since I only wanted to make fun of a few things.


	3. Harry Potter and the Boggart in the Closet

Snape was sitting in the faculty lounge, reading a Daily Prophet when he heard a commotion outside. It sounded like someone was challenging Peeves.

Suddenly, a voice cried loud, _“Waddiwasi!”_ and Peeves was defeated. Then the door opened.

Remus Lupin walked in with a bunch of Gryffindor students. Snape rolled his eyes and ignored them. But not even the world’s most accomplished Occlumens could keep out Lupin’s braying voice; luckily for us, no one paid the Potions Master any attention.

“So, who knows what a boggart is?” Lupin asked.

Hermione raised her hand. “It’s a shape shifter, professor!”

“Well, it’s obvious who the best student in this class is. But my next question is more suited for the worst.”

Everyone stared at Neville. A faint snicker was audible, behind a newspaper in the background. Nobody noticed that I wrote too much drama into this.

“Well, Neville, since it’s unanimous… my question for you is, what are you most frightened of?”

“Ooh, professor,” the brainy brunette called out, “I know, he’s afraid of everything!”

“Now, now, girl, let the boy answer for once.”

Hermione wilted. Neville whimpered.

“What was that, Neville… did you say Professor Snape?”

The whole class roared with laughter. The closet door shuddered. The students gasped, while a malicious glint grew within eyes hidden by serious news articles. Siriusly.

“Yes, class, behind that closet door lies not any skeleton, but a shape-shifting monster, capable of becoming the most horrible and base fear of any who approach it.”

Ron yawned loudly. When you’re that tall, you lack for brains.

“Neville, I want you to approach the door. Be plenty afraid, for your worst nightmare awaits within. But do not go without heart, for there is a way to turn the boggart’s power against it.”

At this Snape considered poisoning Lupin’s next batch of medicine. The best antidote for melodrama was death. Lupin continued. “Yes, Hermione?”

“You mean, think of how your worst fear can be made funny, right?” She gave Lupin her Bambi eyes.

“Ah, yes my dear, laughter is the greatest weapon against the boggart. And I can see why Professor Lockhart mentioned you as his favorite student in his notes.”

Hermione beamed. These are such one dimensional characters. Somebody muttered “teacher’s pet” under their breath, and no one disagreed. The girl was crushed.

“Well, Neville, are you ready to give it a try? I can give you a hint if you’d like.”

Neville had been staring into space for the past minute. It reminded Harry of his cousin Dudley. In the worst way.

“Uh… no Professor, I think I’ve got something funny enough on my own, thanks.” And Neville strode forth to his doom. Beady black eyes peered over the personal ads.

Neville opened the closet door. Snape stepped out. The Potions Master began hurling a litany of insults, a diatribe of defamation, a verisimilitude of viciousness, at the stupid little boy, whose face became grotesquely contorted as he thought ever harder and harder. He shat his pants.

Lupin had an epiphany. “I forgot to give you the countercharm, it’s _RIDDIKULUS!”_ he yelled, aiming his wand.

Boggart-Snape abruptly transformed. Instead of his bat-like robes, he wore black leather chaps with his balls hanging out.

“Oh my God he’s a **_[insert not-woke term here]_**!” screamed Ron. Harry looked at him in horror.

“Oh no, I learned it from Uncle Bilius, it’s not like that,” Ron tried to explain. But the damage was done. Best friends no more.

The real Snape had passed out from shock. Otherwise that would be a plot hole. Lupin tried to regain control.

“Hermione, would you be so kind as to rescue Neville? I’d like to have the whole class try their luck…”

Hermione magicked the now catatonic Neville out of the way. Brains leaked out his ears.

The boggart changed form with a loud “CRACK.” Gilderoy Lockhart appeared.

“Hello again, my **_[REDACTED]_**?”

Hermione shrieked, “YOU PROMISED NOT TO TELL!” and fainted dead away.

Lupin murmured, “Hmm, best and worst, that can’t bode well. NEXT!”

Seamus Finnigan walked forward. The boggart became a banshee. Clearly understanding the humor of this story, he cast “ _riddikulus_ ” on the creature with one thought in mind.

With a loud bang, the banshee’s wail changed pitch obscenely as all her clothes fell off and she **_[REDACTED]_**. The boys in the class **_[REDACTED]_** in their pants.

Lupin was unperturbed. “Well, you’re at that age when you start thinking about such things, so good job, Seamus. Next!”

At this point, Snape woke up. And he remembered!

_“I THINK THIS FARCE HAS GONE ON LONG ENOUGH!”_ he bellowed, apoplectic with rage, leaping murderously in front of everyone, landing on the prone form of Neville. That put him closest to the boggart.

Suddenly Snape felt a poke on his backside. Turning around in fear, he stammered, “No, Headmaster, not here!”

Dumbledore stood behind him, holding something long and thin. It was a magic wand!

Panicking, Lupin spoke the word _“riddikulus”_ and turned it into a crème stick. Then Snape ran away.

Now it was Lupin’s turn. The boggart became a vast, silvery disk. He gave the countercharm one final time, converting it into a huge warty arse, which then exploded. Everyone was covered with flatulence and dingleberry juice.

The class left at once to bathe and spread rumors. But since the whole world soon learned of Snape’s greatest fear, it became impossible to blackmail him with it. The Gryffindors suffered greatly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only Harry Potter story I attempted to submit online. I sent a non-dirty version to Sectumsempra, or whatever it is, and they rejected it for being nonsensical! I guess Brits don't understand American humor, because nonsensicality is the fucking point.


	4. Harry Potter and the Abbreviated Tournament

Harry heard the whistle blow. He felt like he’d been hit with a Jelly-Legs Jinx and that slug spell Ron had unleashed upon himself in their second year. Yeah, Harry felt like _that_.

Annoyed at reminding himself of that traitorous sonofabitch, Harry made his way out of the tent to the enclosure. He was met by jeers and a nasty surprise.

The Hungarian Horntail was chained to the earth, but no golden egg was in sight. The ground beneath the dragon was bereft of ornament except for claw and scorch marks. Laughter erupted among the jeers as Harry succumbed to panic.

“What are you waiting for, boy, find the damn egg!” echoed the enchanted voice of Ludo Bagman. It extolled him further: “It’s a nesting mother, so if you can’t see the bloody egg, there’s only one place it can be!”

At this, Harry threw up. The other judges proceeded to censure Bagman through incineration. At his wit’s end, Harry looked to the audience for guidance.

Hermione was wand-sketching a diagram and instructions for a gynecological examination, in thin air. Harry threw up again. Mad-Eye Moody was leering at Harry through his normal eye while penetrating the she-dragon with his magical one; he cracked a toothy grin on his oaken face and shrugged at the unfortunate boy. Then the miraculous occurred.

Hagrid screamed, “Oy, ‘arry! Look ‘ere!” and lit his own beard on fire. Harry’s heart leapt wildly at the thought of the crude oaf immolating his face in support…then he remembered something from his first year at Hogwarts.

Three years ago, Hagrid had been bribed into revealing secret information for a mere dragon’s egg. Harry and his friends had been pressed into service to help raise the vicious beast. Now Harry recalled a book he had skimmed at the time, _Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_. There had been a memorable passage that Harry had not understood properly at the time, because his balls simply hadn’t dropped yet. But now, with even Harry’s limited carnal knowledge, he could improvise an appropriate strategy.

He turned and went to the edge of the forest, severed a massive tree limb, and whittled it into the appropriate shape. Then he shot fireballs at the dragon’s…HAHAHA… thus enticing her to spread her hindquarters in his direction. Harry then used his finely carved limb to ream the dragon. Several hours later, the Horntail finally **_[REDACTED]_**. It burned Harry like acid, and the golden egg struck him between the eyes, braining him. As the mediwizards arrived, his last sight was of Hagrid smashing through the stands in a brazen attempt to shag the Horntail. He failed when she sodomized him with her horns and then bit his cock off.

***

Harry finally awoke from his coma on Christmas Day. Everyone was thrilled that he had pulled through, and Harry was enjoying all the attention for once in his life. Then Professor McGonagall informed him of his duty that night. Harry was flabbergasted. Luckily for him, he didn’t have to ask a girl out himself; only Eloise Midgen was left. Harry couldn’t remember who the fuck that was, so he asked Ron and Hermione. Ron’s take was negative.

“It’s really too bad, mate, there were some really good-looking girls holding out for you. But in the end, everyone gave you up for dead. Except us…”

Hermione was exasperated. “Oh Ron, Eloise is good-looking enough, all her acne’s gone, she only has some minor scarring, and her nose is back to normal.”

“I will decide!” Harry snapped. “Bring her to me…at once!” Harry’s near-death experience had had an abnormal effect. He now thought of himself as a demigod! How out of character.

Eloise entered the hospital wing. Harry checked her out. She actually had an awesome hourglass figure, and her face was just as Hermione had claimed…almost. While her scarring was indeed minimal and easily concealed by makeup, her nose was still just a _**[REDACTED]** _hair off. It was unnoticeable when viewed at an angle, but dead-on, it really disturbed Harry. He privately resolved to never look her in the face in a well-lit room.

At the ball, Harry survived the opening dance by snogging Eloise relentlessly. This earned him the epithet, “The Lip-Locker Curse,” and Harry led his date out to the gardens. She, however, had gotten the wrong impression from Harry’s attentions, and thus desperately seduced him behind some bushes. The next morning, Harry realized that Eloise’s facial scars weren’t from acne, they were from venereal disease. Got ya.


	5. Harry Potter and the Department of Mysteries

Harry gagged as Professor Umbridge twirled about in front of him, her rolls of fat jiggling over her pink tutu, beckoning…

Harry awoke from his nightmare with a start, falling off his horse. Luckily, the thestrals had already landed already, and he only got a lump on his head—from Ginny.

“You dumb arse, why’d you fall asleep like that, you could have been killed,” she scolded, punching him. She had never forgiven him for ignoring her all these years. Righteous bitch.

“Okay, you two, let’s get on with this,” said Hermione nervously. Ron and Neville nodded in agreement. Dean and Seamus were there, too! Luna said, “I like balls.”

They all crammed into the phone booth together. The boys all tried to cop a feel, and the girls enjoyed it to varying degrees. Harry swore, however, that he felt a conspicuous poke in his backside…

When the doors finally opened, they fell into the Atrium like a clusterfuck. Luna recovered first. She sprang up and ran like mad down to the end of the room, wailing, “I’m coming to GET YOU, tee hee,” all the while dragging poor Neville, whose hand was still stuck in her pants.

Otherwise, the hall was quiet. “Crikey, this is just like the Ulster Troubles again,” whispered Seamus. Hermione had to kick him to make him let go of her.

Harry was impatient.

“All right, you sodding wankers, follow me! Move OUT!” he bellowed. Ginny hexed his tongue out. So they continued.

They found Neville plowed face first into the Fountain of Magical Brethren. Luna was pretending to be a statue. Ginny was not amused.

“She does this all the time,” she said, rolling her eyes, “you just have to know her weak spot.” With that, she pointed her wand at the girl’s **_[REDACTED]_** , said “Aquamenti,” and drenched her with water.

**_[REDACTED]_ **

Next, our heroes entered the spinny room, where they all threw up. Then they tried the brain room, where the idea for this was first cooked up. Finally, they entered… the Death Chamber! Ooh!

Inside was a dusty old theatre, with a crumbling stone arch and a cobwebby curtain. Along the arch was chiseled the word, _“BURLESQUE.”_

Harry could swear he heard whispering, so he ran over to find out for sure. It was a woman’s voice, sultry and smooth, extolling him to take off his clothes. It sounded like someone he wanted to meet, so he peered through the veil…

…only to find an ugly old hag, withered and ancient beyond reckoning, with crumbly old milk jugs like used IV bags from the medical waste bin. They even had rusty syringes!

Harry ran from there as fast as his wee little legs could carry him. They took him so far, I could skip a scene.

With the crystal ball in hand, Harry pondered it ponderously while Luna, salivating, murmured, “Now all I need is **_[REDACTED]_** , Daddy.”

That’s when the Death Eaters sprung their trap. “Just give me the prophecy, Potter, and everything will be just dandy—”

Seamus interrupted. “Jesus Christ, it’s Sinn Fein! Die you bloody bastards!” And he slotted Mr. Malfoy good.

With their leader thus perforated, the other Death Eaters scrambled for cover, & our heroes scattered. Harry gave Luna his prize; she was “grateful” and hid it on her person for “safekeeping.”

Back in the Death Chamber, the Death Eaters caught up with our heroes to death. I almost spat out my food writing that. Seamus had been burned alive, Dean had been blinded, Neville was in pieces, Hermione had been Muted, Ginny was bleeding out. And Ron…

“Hey Harry, look! I’m invisible, look! You’re not looking!”

Then he exploded himself, mistaking invisibility for invincibility. That left Harry and Luna.

“Oh you damn buggers, give me the prophecy!” screamed Bellatrix LeStrange. “Accio! _ACCIO!”_

But no crystal ball appeared. Instead, Luna giggled with delight!

“YOU! How dare you laugh at me, little girl! This’ll teach YOU! _Crucio!”_

But what Bellatrix didn’t know was that Luna was a masochist. She quivered querulously.

“H-h-harry, d-d-do something, or my b-ball will c-c-come oooooouuuuuu…….t!

But Harry only stood there, transfixed.

Just then, the Order of the Phoenix arrived. Sirius led the charge, splatting Death Eaters every which way. But he froze upon reaching the two dueling witches. Then his jar dropped. Then he howled.

This spooked Bellatrix, who was catatonically afraid of dogs. She collapsed on the spot, with her wand tip landing on Luna in exactly the right place.

A boom like a cannon sounded, and Harry ducked to dodge the spray. But Sirius, tempted by his lonely years in captivity and hiding, ripped off his shirt instead. Thus, in ecstasy he bathed when the ball shattered upon his brow, brain-damaging away. For a moment, a single voice could be heard above the cacophonous din: “The winning numbers for the twenty-eighteen super lotto are…”

Harry had grabbed the wrong ball. Due to a one in a million clerical error, caused not at all by each and every crystal ball looking exactly alike, several hundred balls had been misfiled. But that wouldn’t stop ol’ Trixy Bellatrix! In a stupor, she bounded off to the Hall of Prophecy once more, Harry gripping her robes—and ass-flaps (sitting in Azkaban makes you fat).

No sooner had they arrived that the witch realized the enormity of the task before her. So she called for help.

“Please oh please, master, bait me, master, bait me!”

In a zesty flash, Voldemort appeared. Zing! A curious mass writhed beneath his robes.

“What is it Bella, I’m milking Nagini…and later she’s going to milk me!” he leered.

Harry blew chunks across the room. Then Dumbledore rode in on Fawkes the Phoenix. The battle commenced.

“We must join with Sauron, join him!”

“Tell me, Tom, when did the wisdom of Voldemort give way to madness?”

“BANZAI!”

And they conjured up light sabers. That was too much for Harry. He cast the Extraplanar Jump Spell on himself to escape. He did it just in time for Star Trek to be canceled, sending him plummeting back to his own universe.

Voldemort had just escaped with Bellatrix, and dozens of ministry officials milled about. Dumbledore himself was on the floor, injured.

“Oh Professor, you can’t die now, what about book six?”

“Don’t worry, Harry, I’ll recover in time, but my secret is out, I’m afraid…”

“Oh, we figured that out a while ago, otherwise why would you be a bachelor all this time?”

“No, Harry, not that, look.” And Dumbledore lifted his robes.

He was a eunuch. With a hemorrhoid so big, no man could mount him and live. “Forced celibacy is a terrible thing, Harry…”

It freaked the boy out so much that as soon as the mediwizards had revived them, he cosmically fucked Ginny and Hermione. But not Luna; he figured that as tight as her grip was, she likely had an extra set of teeth.

Meanwhile, brain-dead Sirius heard the call of the siren behind the veil, and sauntered over gladly. The hag swallowed him whole, dick first. Her gullet contained the ninth level of Hell. Cheers!


	6. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Pimp

Once again, Harry and Ron were late for Potions. This year, Dumbledore had brought an old salt, Horace Slughorn, out of (forced) retirement to teach the subject. But already the dirty old fart’s nickname in the castle was Whore-Arse Schlong-Whore.

“Professor, Ron and I just signed up for this class, and we haven’t gotten our books yet…”

“Oh that’s alright, just steal some from the cupboard,” said the Slug. He started his lecture anew.

“As I was saying, this is the Advanced Potions class, so I have before you four Advanced Potions. Can anyone tell me what they are?”

Hermione raised her hand. “This one here, I believe it’s Amortitia, the strongest love potion in the world. It smells differently for each person, based on whatever attracts them the most. For instance, I smell…”

Ron interrupted: “It smells like girls’ underwear!”

The whole class roared with laughter. The Slug sighed and said, “Tsk, tsk, Wimbledon, or whatever your name is. And as for you, Miss Granger, you were almost right. Amortitia is actually a lust potion. It causes nymphomania to the utmost extreme. However, one of its more unfortunate side effects is to cause the imbiber to hallucinate. As a result, by the time they finally reach the object of their obsession, they may have contracted up to forty venereal diseases. This means the potion is best used on a victim in a closed, secluded room. Detention, Granger, midnight tonight, my private quarters. Bring a change of clothes.”

Hermione gulped nervously as the Slug continued. “Ah, now what is this next potion, Potion Number Twooo?”

Hermione’s lips trembled as she gave it another try. “T-that’s V-veritasemen, P-p-professor,” she uttered, barely audible, entranced.

“And what does it dooo, Miss Granger?” he queried, puffing up his chest, grinning broadly as a cat. Meow.

“It…it makes one ejaculate as often as they like…without pausing to recharge.”

The Slug licked his lips. “Yes, Miss Granger, that is correct. A week’s detention is in order. Now, what’s this last one?”

Hermione shivered. Goosebumps spread over her entire body. Her bra felt oddly tight…

“It’s…Polyjizz Potion. It makes you taste…like the recipient’s favorite flavor. Mine is…”

“Bwa, what’s this last one?” said Ronald to the rescue.

“Oh, Wittershins, you rascally rat! It’s no wonder you’ve been typecast. This is the most special specious specialty in the room! It’s called Phallus Fellatio, otherwise known as Liquid Yuck. Who can tell me what it does? Oh, Miss Granger once more!”

“It makes the drinker the luckiest man or woman alive!” she cried out.

“Yes, Miss Granger, oh yes, yes, yes! Detention for a month…nay, the whole year! Er…on second thought, I don’t like smart girls, they’re too…retentive. Detention is canceled.”

Hermione, though relieved, felt both confused and rejected. She sulked for the rest of the day.

“Okay, class, your assignment for the remainder of the period is to produce two complimentary concoctions. First, a Potion of Sound Asleep, and second, a Lubricating Lather. The student who manages to produce the best pair will be rewarded with samples of the four potions you learned about today. Work it, baby!”

Harry opened his text. It was filled with the most lurid graffiti, featuring artful depictions of how to satisfy a woman while satisfying yourself. It so amazed Harry that he didn’t even start on his assignment; Hermione won by default. As the class gathered their belongings to leave, Harry took note of the name in his book:

_Property of the Half-Blood Pimp_

How mysterious.

***

Later that evening, Harry was alone in the dormitory, lying on his bed, thinking _very_ hard about girls, when one of them interrupted.

“Hey, Harry, are you up here?”

Shocked and surprised, and gravely upset by the letdown, Harry responded. “Hermione, you know you’re not supposed to be up here. I might’ve been changing!” (Three more seconds and he would have!)

Hermione sighed and frowned. “Oh Harry, I just needed someone to talk to about Ron. All the girls have to say about him is how lucky Lavender is.” Tears welled up in those _purty-wurty_ eyes.

Harry groaned and muttered under his breath, “Jeez, I’m not a metro.” Then more loudly, “Well, what about Ginny, isn’t she around?” The thought made him all tingly again. “And she’s not likely to be jealous of Lav. Although, you have to admit, their family is surprisingly pure-blood…”

Hermione shut him up. “No, I can’t seem to find her, I thought she must be off with Dean again.”

This made Harry’s heart clench and fill with venom. His erection lost once more, his scar began to twitch spasmodically…

Just then, somebody else came up the stairs. “Oh, Lavender, what are you doing here?”

She had a pouty look on her face. “I’ve been looking for Won-won all over. I wanted to give him a love letter. Again. With photos. Oh, hello Hermione.”

Hermione’s face was pale white, and her frame had become rigid as a post. Magical energy seemed to crackle invisibly around her. Catfight!

Harry answered her. “Sorry, Lav, but Ron’s not here. He’s probably got his head down a toilet again.”

Lavender looked confused. “But that wasn’t in the movie!”

Harry shrugged. “I can give Ron the note, if you’d like.”

Suddenly, Hermione snatched the note out of Lavender’s hand. “Over my dead body, _bitch_.”

Fortunately, at that moment Ginny came up the stairs. “Oh, I didn’t expect so many people here. What’s going on?”

Harry’s heart exploded in his chest as his vision turned scarlet. “Looking for Dean, eh? (Maybe you should check out his closet…)”

Ginny raised her eyebrows. Oh it’s on now. “Not that it’s any of your business. I just wanted to break up with him in private. But if you’d rather I not, then by all means make an arse of yourself.”

Instead, Harry’s heart soared. “Huzzah, felicitations for all! Here, have a Cauldron Cake.”

Grudgingly, and in some cases bemusedly, the girls each took a bite. Presently:

“I’ve never felt this way about a girl before.”

“I wonder, does she even know that I exist?”

“Do you think I’m too smart for her, Harry? I can’t take two rejections in one day!”

Harry’s jaw dropped. He looked into the pastry box. Inside was a note: “To Harry Potter, from Romilda Vane: Dear Harry, I hope this finds you well. I’ll be in the prefects’ bathroom, ‘freshening up.’ Don’t be too long, wink-wink!”

Floored by his good luck, Harry bounded off with the girls in tow. Good thing Hermione brought those prized potions along!

The next morning, the five were late for breakfast. Everyone could tell from their disheveled appearance what had happened.

Ron never forgave Harry.

***

But who was the Half-Blood Pimp? The world may never know. (It was Voldemort.)


	7. Harry Potter and the Wardrobe Malfunction

Once again, our heroes were fleeing from the Death Eaters. Harry led the way, and soon he spotted a moldy old wardrobe. “Quick, let’s hide!”

They crammed in all at once, but soon found themselves falling through the floor. “Oh no, not another nefarious plot twist,” screamed Neville, “we’re done for!”

Suddenly, they plowed into the ground. “Wow,” said Ginny, “we’ve been teleported to a forest. I wonder which one?”

Hermione clucked. “Well, obviously it’s all an illusion, haven’t you read C.S. Lewis? I bet the wardrobe belonged to a fan, they must have used a modified Undetectable Extension Charm, according to the latest theory…”

Luna interrupted, before they could all die of boredom, _“Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure!”_

“And those without wit, don’t give a shit,” answered Ron. I know, I was surprised, too. Hermione cursed them all.

“Oh really, you shaggy twats, then where are we?”

“I think we’re in Oz,” said Harry.

He pointed to the edge of the forest, down slope, where diminutive figures dashed about dimly. “I think those must be Munchkins. If we follow the Yellow Brick Road, we’ll reach the Emerald City, and our ticket home. Let’s go!”

Hermione began talking to herself, quietly. “Ooh, I bet this wardrobe is American, it must have been brought here by an exchange student during the war…”

But soon they realized their error. “Hey, these aren’t Munchkins, they aren’t singing and their feet are too hairy…”

“What?”

“Their feet are hairy.”

“What do you mean, they’re ‘Harry,’ they don’t look like me!”

Ron smirked. “ _Dad’s head is not hairy!”_

“Well, of course not, it looks like yours!”

_“Nevillesballsaresohairy!”_

“Quiet, I’m embarrassed about it!”

_“Lavendersbushissohairy!”_

“Now I’m really confused…”

“Ron, how could you! She’s a slut!”

The boys would never be laid again.

Abruptly, the mood changed. “Hey, do I hear an old man singing? (Make him stop!)”

_“The road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began—”_

“Hey, it’s Dumbledore, we’re saved!”

_“—oh far ahead the road has gone—”_

“Um, Harry, Dumbledore’s dead. You saw it yourself…”

_“—and I must follow, if I can._ Why, who are all you people here? And in the middle of the Shire, of all places?”

Hermione gasped. “Oh my God, I just figured out what this is! It’s a Tolkien Chest!”

Blank stares. “Honestly, I understand completely, not even J. K. Rowling has finished those books, so neither have I. But I had to endure the movie previews like everyone else, so that’s how I know. Why, you must be Gandalf!”

The wizard was unperturbed. “Everyone in these parts has heard of me, so I’m not surprised you strangers have as well. Say, how about you come to the Party this evening? It’s Bilbo Baggins’ eleventy-first birthday, and half the Shire’s been invited! I’d hate to be the only one of the Big Folk to show up.”

Our heroes, not ones to pass up a chance at freeloading birthday cake, agreed. So they all hopped on the back of Gandalf’s wagon, and even helped to set up the decorations. Then they got so drunk off Hobbit beer that they didn’t wake up until Bilbo’s speech, during which Ron heckled him with a shout of “Dildo Shaggins!” None of the Little Folk got the joke, so they all thought him quite clever.

Soon, Bilbo came to the end: “Well, this…is goodbye.” And he disappeared!

This made Harry’s scar throb unexpectedly. He thought fast: “Stay here, you guys, I’m gonna put on my Invisibility Cloak and follow that old fart!” He entered Bag End and eavesdropped.

“Bilbo, the ring is still in your pocket.”

Bilbo frowned, and with great effort, dropped the ring on the floor. Then he walked out. Gandalf followed him to say goodbye. Harry took this moment to snatch the ring. As he touched it, his scar tingled and stung. This was all the evidence he needed!

Just then, Gandalf returned. He looked to where the ring had fallen, but didn’t see it there. He stroked his beard, muttered inanely to himself, and turned to leave…when suddenly he whipped around, staff in hand, conking Harry on the noggin. Tally plonk!

“I should have known, the six of you exhibited signs of hidden powers. Now get up, fool, and show yourself.”

Stricken, Harry did as he was told. Then he tried to explain. “Sir, you might not understand, but this ring is not what you think it is! It’s actually a Horcrux, and I need to destroy it.”

Gandalf gave him a vexing look. “Now, what might a…‘ _whore-crooks,_ ’ you say? What might that be?”

Thrilled that he could finally lecture someone older than himself, Harry launched into an explanation. “Well, sir, it’s an object in which a person has placed a part of their soul, in order to make themselves immortal.”

At this, Gandalf’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets; his face became flushed and pale. “Alright then, boy, if you’re sure you’ve got to destroy it. Try fire first.”

Smugger than shit, Harry pointed his wand at the ring and said “Incendio.” It burst into flames…burning his hand. “Ow, fuck!”

Luckily, he dropped it into the fireplace. Gandalf gripped it with a pair of tongs, and said, “Hold out your hand, boy. I assure you, it’s quite cool to the touch.”

Very doubtful, but equally fearful of Gandalf’s big stick, he did as he was told. Surprisingly, it was true!

“Now boy, is there any writing on the band? Tell me now, before I have to bother learning your name.”

“Ha! It’s Harry, you old salt! And yes, there’s some kind of badass calligraphy, but it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. Maybe it was made in China?”

Gandalf rolled his eyes. “No, and your new nickname is ‘Maggot.’ As for the writing, it is part of a poem, written in the Black Speech of Mordor, which I will not utter here. We can’t afford the ratings. But in the common tongue, the poem as a whole reads, ‘ _Three for the Elvenkings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-Lords, in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men, doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord, on his dark throne, In the land of Mordor where the Shadow lies. One ring to rule them all, One ring to find them, One ring to bring them all, and in the Darkness, bind them, In the land of Mordor where the Shadow lies._ ’”

“Wow, that is just terrible writing, all the more reason for me to destroy it!”

“I’m afraid it’s not so simple, Maggot. You see, this is the One Ring, forged by the Dark Lord Sauron in the Second Age, in the very fires of Mount Doom. Only there can the Ring be unmade. And it’s totally like a thousand miles away.”

At this, Harry was perplexed. Then Ron piped up. “Harry, let’s just Summon our brooms and fly there!”

Gandalf was outraged. “Have you been _peeping_ this entire time?” he yelled, half scolding as he yanked Ron in through the window. The others came in quickly through the front door.

“But Ron, I’ve been doing some tests, and I’m afraid it’s not possible,” Hermione explained. “This wardrobe is something far more sinister than an Undetectable Extension Charm. We really are cut off from our world!”

Harry slapped his forehead. “That settles it. Voldemort was here, he found the ring, used it as his final Horcrux, and now we must destroy it. Who’s with me!”

The uninitiated asked, “What’s a Horcrux?”

***

The next morning, Gandalf set out on his own. “You’ll have to leave the Shire. Make your way east, to Rivendell. If you meet any Rangers, accept their help. But stay off the road. The Enemy has many spies: birds, beasts. They’ll be looking for this ring, and it will call to them. Finally, never, never, ever ever _ever_ , put it on.”

Ron blathered, “That’s no fun,” as Gandalf bade his final farewell. “I cannot come with you, I must see the head of my order. He’ll know what to do.”

With that, he was off, and our heroes were left all alone. Hermione broke the silence.

“If only we had known what we were getting ourselves into, we could have packed clean underwear.”

“Yeah, Neville really needs it, he had too much to drink last night.”

And they all laughed at Neville.

***

Hours later, they were walking on a country lane, ignoring the old man’s advice, when Harry felt a chill. “Get off the road, quick!”

Confused, they all hid in the brush as a mysterious rider galloped past. Harry felt an incredible urge to put on the ring, so he did.

The Rider pulled hard on the reins and turned right around. But Harry was too startled by the change in scenery to notice: everything appeared blanketed in a fog of light (too many mushrooms)!

Luckily, Ginny was on the case. She hurled hex after hex at the Rider, but none of them seemed to have any effect. Then the Rider screamed.

The gang ran for their lives, and soon came to a river. “Quick, we’ve gotta cross it! Let’s swim!”

They dove in, and Neville drowned. But the others made it, and were thrilled when the Rider refused to cross. Ron called him a horse-wanker for good measure.

The Rider took exception, and threw his evil dagger. It landed right in Ron’s shoulder. “Waaa! I didn’t mean it, you big meanie!”

But the Rider was gone. Harry did what he had to do: he yanked out the blade and cauterized the wound. A Silencing Charm kept their ears from bleeding. Then Harry realized his mistake.

“Oh shit, this is a Punjab stick, it’s covered in feces, and I just sealed up the wound without cleaning it. Whoopsie!”

Hermione and Ginny wailed. “How could you Harry, now he’s gonna die, boo hoo!”

“B-but, I didn’t know, it, it must have been the Ring! Yes, the Ring made me do it!”

Fortunately for him, the girls bought it, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. So they left Ron to die with the Hobbits.

***

The next night, our fabulous foursome arrived in Bree. They used the little pocket change they had to pay for a room at the inn. As they were having a drink, Harry noticed some of the patrons giving him funny looks. He asked the barman what was up.

“Oh, that one over there, that’s Bill Ferny, rumor is he likes to ambush travelers and steal their stuff. That’s why he doesn’t have a job…and the guy talking to him, I’ve never seen him before, he’s some sort of southerner, looks a bit orcish if you ask me…and that man way over in the corner there, he’s one of them Rangers. Dangerous folk they be, wanderin’ the wild. What his right name is, I’ve never heard, but round here, folks call him ‘Strider.’”

“Strider,” Harry murmured. Just then, his ears perked up: Luna was spilling the beans!

“Yeah, we’re headed to Rivendell, hic, we’re gonna blow up an earring, hic, I’m too drunk, someone carry me to my room, eh?”

Harry shouted, “Wait!” and jumped out of his chair. Then he fell on his ass and the Ring landed on his finger.

The whole room rose up in commotion as Harry disappeared. Then Harry saw a huge bloodshot eye, burning with rainbow colored flames, leering at him: “ _I see you when you’re sleeping, I know when you’re awake, I know when you’ve been bad or good so be good for goodness’ sake...”_

Harry squealed and yanked the ring off his hand. Then he felt himself being dragged up a staircase. Soon, his captor revealed himself. Strider!

Actually, it was Snape. “What are you doing here, Potter? This is my private fantasy world…”

Harry could hardly contain himself. “Oh, you like to rough it up now and then, do you? Like to spend weeks at a time in the wild woods, with nothing but your horse and a sock for company? Sounds like the Snape I know!”

Snape proceeded to throttle the boy. “Listen here, you scummy little shit. I’m a hundred times the man you or your father ever was. Die, motherfucker.”

As Harry’s vision turned black at the edges, the girls stormed into the room. “Snape? What the fuck, I thought you were with You-Know-Who, how’d you get here?”

Snape smiled grimly and pulled off his face. It was the Rider! The illusion broken, they entered into battle. But once again, our heroes’ wand-spells simply bounced off. So they ran for the hills.

“Jeez, that was close, thanks for saving me,” said Harry.

“Oh, don’t mention it. We didn’t want to lose you, otherwise we’d be out of a job for the last movie.”

***

Eventually, they reached Rivendell. There they were flabbergasted that the elves were a bunch of hotties who didn’t resemble Dobby in the slightest. Reading this, Dobby committed suicide. After a short wait, the Council of Elrond convened. “Frodo, I mean Harry, bring forth the Ring.”

Harry put it on the table. Argument ensued.

“We should use the Ring against Sauron!”

“No, let’s bury it really, really deep!”

“Wrong! We should throw it out to sea!”

“Nay, let us mail it to Detroit. He’ll never find it there!”

Gandalf cleared his throat. “Ahem. You’re all wrong, and not fit to be counted among the Wise. There is only one thing for it: we must destroy the Ring in the Crack of Doom.”

Hermione sniffled. “If only Ron were here, he could have made that so funny!”

Harry deflected that line of thought. “Hey, I’ll pitch it down that hole, just tell me where to go!”

After a few mutinous mutterings, the Council agreed. “Very well, it shall be…the Quest of Mount Doom! And who shall aid the Ring-Bearer?”

Gandalf smiled. “I shall help you bear this burden. Maggot.”

Aragorn was there! “You have my sword.”

Legolas: “And my bow.”

Gimli: “And my axe!”

Boromir: “If this is indeed the will of the Council, then so be it. I will follow you as well.”

The girls fluttered their eyes. “Three hunks, why, we’ll tag along as well! Harry, you can have the dwarf and the old man.”

Thus began Harry’s descent into darkness.

***

So there they all were, Nine Walkers, marching south. The scenery bored them, so they decided to go over the mountains to the east, stopping at a ski resort along the way. That was when Gandalf decided to spill the news. “Oh me oh my, I forgot to tell you all…Saruman, the head of my order, switched sides and betrayed us all for Sauron. He owns this resort, and we’ll probably never make it out alive. I’m sorry I forgot.”

Enraged, Harry swore never to listen to the old fool ever again. Then Gimli put in his two cents.

“Let us go through the Mines of Moria! My cousin Balin will give us a royal welcome!”

Gandalf frowned. “We’ve not heard from your cousin in some time, Gimli. And I have reason to believe it may be too dangerous…”

But Harry had made up his mind. “Ha! Where I go, the Ring goes, and I’m going down!” He winked at the girls, and they slapped him.

***

The party soon arrived at the Doors of Moria. But yet again, Gandalf in his senility had forgotten something important. “Uh-oh, what’s the password?”

Dead tired, the others set up camp while Gandalf argued with himself over and over again. Eventually, he gave up. Then Gimli said, “Well aren’t you gonna ask _me_ yet?” to which Gandalf replied, “Oh, bollocks.” Guess what! That was the password!

As our heroes made their big entrance, tentacles silently slithered between the girls’ legs. This made them giggle, while the males were horrified. “That’s not fair at all, you dirty lecher!” And they murdered the Watcher.

***

Deep into the mines they went. When Gandalf said, “Bilbo had a shirt of mithril rings. It was worth more than the whole of the Shire,” everybody else scrambled to scrape mithril dust out of the walls. This got the attention of the orcs.

“Hey, it’s humans! Get them before Mr. B finds out!” And the chase was on.

It ended when they arrived at a narrow bridge. A huge flaming demon was blocking the path: Mr. B!

_“Damn, you guys, you can’t leave without trying on a few outfits! The changing rooms are down aisle four! Sale on evening wear and dresses!”_

The girls squealed with delight and joined Legolas in the fashion boutique. That left the real men with the balrog.

“Get out of our way, you evil prick! Or I’ll knock you into the Abyss!”

The demon was unmoved, so the old man took a swing.

“Ouch, my hands! Hey Maggot, you’re young, push this bitch out of the way.”

But before Harry could react, Mr. B took great offense. _“Why, you nasty, nasty man! I am no one’s bitch!_ En garde!”

The duel commenced, and it was the coolest thing Harry had ever seen, until the balrog farted in Gandalf’s face and burnt him to a crisp. But the rocket thrust from the fart pushed Mr. B over the edge, and he fell from sight. The path was clear!

Harry pointed his wand at his throat, said _“Sonorus!”_ and called out, “Clearance sale at the eastern entrance! Across the bridge!” Thus were our heroes reunited. Except for Gandalf.

***

That night, the party arrived in Lorien. There, they told their tale of shopping, and soon all the elves had gone up the mountain. All except Galadriel, that is.

“Look into my mirror, Harry.”

“What will I see?”

“Things that are, things that were, and some things…that have not yet come to pass.”

Thinking dirty, Harry took a peek. He was disappointed.

“Oh, it’s just a couple of dogs humping. Big deal.”

Annoyed, he led the group down river, using stolen boats.

***

Eventually, they reached the Falls of the Rauros. It was at this time that Harry finally became suspicious of Boromir.

The man had been giving Harry funny looks the whole trip, but now his stares had become more sinister, with a squirrelly red glint in his eyes, reminiscent of _Deliverance_. It freaked the boy out.

Just then, Boromir lunged. But Harry, in a bout of panic, threw the ring right at him. It beaned him in the eye, killing him instantly.

Tidying up the plot, Harry made good his escape. He would go to Mordor, alone, and not let anyone slow him down. Except for Ginny; she was too hot to waste.

***

The others had made camp, and that night they started to get worried. Suddenly, a foghorn blared! The Uruk-hai had arrived! Leading them was none other than…

“Ron? Oh my God, it’s Ron! We thought you were dead!” exclaimed Hermione.

Looking snobbishly yet coolly at the brunette, Ron said, “I am, bitch. And now you’re gonna pay. Where’s Harry?”

Hermione turned a curious pale white as she struggled to come to grips with the situation. Everyone was overwhelmed by sheer numbers and slaughtered, because that’s actually realistic when they didn’t have machine guns. Harry was captured by Ron and gave up the ring, and Ronald Bilius Weasley overthrew the Dark Lords of both worlds and ruled them in benevolent mediocrity. The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, this unfinished tale was the inspiration for part three of "Twice Trumped". Part of me wishes that I had done Lord of the Rings character crossovers in that, the way I did in this. Oh well.


End file.
